Gracelessly Helpful
by SaidbhinLuch
Summary: Molly Hooper had never been the most graceful or elegant of people, and it seemed to translate into most aspects of her life. Particularly when dealing with Sherlock Holmes in her flat. Well despite her clumsiness, at least she was helpful. Hurt, comfort, angst and a dollop of humour.


Molly Hooper had never been the most graceful of people, _endearingly clumsy, _as her grandmother had put it once.

Never made her feel any better about it though.

She always managed to stumble over the little things, and typically herself. However, it was always at its very worst when in the presence of one Sherlock Holmes.

Must to her chagrin and ceaseless embarrassment, something about that man managed to amp up her clumsy nature into a storm all of its own.

Unfortunately, the piercing kaleidoscope eyes that watched disdainfully as she fumbled around her lab never seemed to deduce that it made her worse.

That was more than a tad surprising, given his almost ungodly talent for it.

Molly could never figure out what exactly it was about him that affected her so badly. Was it the sharp eyes that could never settle on a single colour, the audacity of the graceful features that was just unjust for a lone man to have, the insanely smooth baritone voice or the bloody cheekbones.

Always with the blasted cheekbones.

Or simply the fact that he could read her so very, very easily.

She jumped slightly as Sherlock stormed into her living room and looked at her before a moment, flinging off his jacket and storming back out. She got up and plucked the leather jacket off the floor and hung it off the back of the couch.

She rubbed the artificially worn leather, absently noting that it was completely un-Sherlock-like, which was entirely the point she surmised.

Molly moved to the window and looked out at the street, careful to ensure that no one could see her. He had warned her that Kitty Riley may be skulking around looking for more with which to drive further stakes into the coffin she helped create.

_Bitch,_ she thought savagely, yanking the curtain shut with more force then she had intended.

'How is this?' She turned and tried to control her facial expression as Sherlock came back in with ginger hair, drastically shorter than usual.

'Very... different.' Molly twiddled with a strand of hair as she moved away from the window and peered up at him.

'You'll need to alter your eyebrows to make it really work.' Molly bit her lip and studied him carefully, almost as though she was examining one of her bodies back in the morgue. She leaned back and analysed his face critically.

He watched in a similar fashion, as though trying to dissect her thought process and she thought she glimpsed for a moment, a flash of pride.

'If you give me my laptop, and about 20 minutes Sherlock. I might be able to help disguise you a little bit more.'

'Fine.' Sherlock turned and threw himself onto her small couch and stared up at the ceiling, hands together under his nose.

'Or I'll just get it myself...' She muttered to herself, stumbling over her own two feet as she moved towards her kitchen.

'I thought you said 20 minutes Molly.' Molly jumped and saw that he was now sitting up, and staring at Toby who was now curled up next to him on the couch. Well, that was odd usually Toby has issues with men in her life. Even John Watson, who had popped round every so often to pick up a few files for Sherlock, hadn't been able to avoid the claws of her not so sweet tabby.

'Sorry... There's an awful lot of information, and I had a couple of emails to respond to...'

'Barts?'

'Yeah, it's been suggested that both myself and Mike go on paid sabbatical until the heat dies down.' Molly spoke almost absently as she thumbed down through a list of possible options. She groped around for a pen and paper to note down the better options for him.

'I am sorry.' She tilted her head and smiled gently at him, trying to reassure the man who was looking rather guilty, which for Sherlock was extremely so. She set the laptop to one side and folded her legs up under her.

'Not your fault. Besides, we have been assured that our jobs are totally safe. They are investigating how you managed to get access to the morgue so easily. I don't mind, minimises the chance of me overhearing gossip and I won't get the pity stares. I can't stand those.'

'Well at least Mycroft will be annoyed.' Molly watched as Sherlock petted Toby, looking as though he was unaware he was doing so.

'So he knows then?' Though phrased as a question, it didn't come out as one and he nodded sagely settling back into the couch. Molly scanned through her list, glancing up at Sherlock every so often, trying to narrow down what she'd need to hide his distinctive features.

After a while she felt more than saw his eyes trained on her, deducing, deliberating and inferring things she couldn't even begin to fathom.

She twitched her nose slightly as she considered straightening his hair, possibly even slicking it back.

Not a look she would pick first off, but it might work, at least in the attempt to smuggle him out of London.

'You are taking the sabbatical.' He leaned forward and took the list from her lap and began to read through it himself, nodding slightly and grabbing her phone.

'Probably best.' Molly was watching the speed at which he was texting and feeling even more bewildered. He moved slightly in his seat causing Toby to glare at him, before settling back down, and she thought she could've caught a hint of a wince.

'Did you not take the painkillers I left out? Wait, never mind, of _course_ you didn't.' She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, trying to stop herself from snapping at him. She got up and stormed into the kitchen snatched the glass of water and meds and slammed them into Sherlock's hands and turned on the telly.

She could practically _hear_ him roll his eyes behind her, and she coughed pointedly. He nudged her, making her look back at him as he downed the painkillers in an overly dramatic way. They held each others' gaze for a moment, glaring furiously at the other.

_Oh this was going to be __**buckets **__of fun._

* * *

A week later Molly darted in her front door slamming it forcefully shut and leaning back against it, breathing heavily. Bags dropped around her and she looked up at the ceiling, raising one hand to the top of her head.

'Molly?' She jumped her hand jolting to her chest as Sherlock ambled into the room, clad in nothing more than a bright blue sheet. She could still see the bruising, the rather jaundiced yellow that was stark against his pale skin. She took a moment to steady herself, bracing against the door.

'Hey Sherlock.' In her panic and surprise at his get up, or rather lack thereof, she tripped over the bags she had forgotten about and fell right into his chest. Molly could feel the hint of wince ripple through him as he grabbed her upper arms and righted her.

'Are you alright?' She blinked up at him in surprise as he leaned down towards her, frowning slightly and investigating.

'Something has rattled you. It was not J- any of our... friends, you are unsure what to think of it.' He stepped back and narrowed his eyes, taking every inch of her in. Molly wasn't sure if she could break eye contact and just blinked widely at him.

'Kitty Riley.' She knew that she needn't bother confirming it as she turned to pick up the groceries and other odds and ends they'd needed. The annoyance and anger she spied in his face, was jarring, she opened her mouth to ask, but shook her head and started unpacking.

'What was Kitty looking for?' Molly's hair tumbled out of its bobble and she took a moment to hide behind it in order to sort out her thoughts. She could feel Sherlock watching her closely from his position on the couch.

'She was wondering what happened to J-_Moriarty's_ body.' Molly looked over at him, her head still bowed over the shopping, warily waiting for his reaction. Sherlock turned slowing on the couch, arm resting on the back of it and stared at her, eyes suddenly stormier.

'What happened to his body?' She winced and moved to put the milk away in the fridge ducking behind the door for second.

'I don't know. I was rushing to do _yours_ and I heard nothing about his. It was only with Riley asked me if I knew why there had been nothing about Richard Brooks disappearance when I suspected something was wrong. I called Le- the yard and they said that someone had taken the body mid-autopsy.'

'Mid-autopsy?'

'Yeah, Dr. Mitchell had his case. Apparently he got an emergency page and by the time he got back, everything was gone.'

'Why take the body?' Sherlock's face zoned out as he retreated back into his mind palace and she sighed, knowing that he wouldn't notice. She just couldn't bring herself to tell him about meeting John outside Barts. She had stopped in to clear out the last of Sherlock's experiments, before someone else got their hands on them. As she rushed out she had nearly smacked into the grieving man.

Luckily her guilt at lying to the poor guy, translated into despair as they shared glum looks.

"_He told me to tell everyone that he was a fraud. The only people in the world who he counted on. That damned note." Molly bit down savagely on her lip, but could not stop the lone tear drip down her cheek. John was staring up at the ledge, lines of pain deeply etched into his face._

"_He even told me to tell you, but you've known him longer, quite a bit longer. I've never heard him sound so, so unsure. Hell his voice actually broke." He reached up and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide his tears, and Molly stepped towards him and grabbed his hand, dropping her groceries and experiments in her haste._

"_I may know- have __**known **__him longer, but you definitely knew him better." John refused to look at her, but he squeezed her hand in thanks._

"_I'm not so sure about that Molly, he'd never apologised to me. Only Mrs. Hudson, and you. But did he say anything to you? Before..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely upwards and Molly sighed lightly._

"_He told me I counted. He looked, sad, I didn't know why, I just asked him if he needed anything, and he left." She struggled to keep the lie close to the truth, Sherlock had impressed on her the need to keep it as truthful as possible. Something that had worked so well in destroying him could very well save him._

"_Idiot. I just can't- I don't know what to do. I think I'm going to go away. Travel, clear my head." He was swallowing heavily and clenching his jaw, staring resolutely upwards._

"_Well the bigger the genius, the bigger their idiotic side. And that's a good idea, give you some space and time to sort out the past few weeks." _

"_You'll take of everyone won't you?"_

'_Of- of course." She was surprised that he had asked, and was hugely touched that he trusted her that much. Then instantly felt guilty as she was partly responsible for keeping him in this state._

"_Thank you Molly." He squeezed her hand once more before letting it go and, fisting it at his side. Molly felt, more then saw, someone move close by and she looked round casually as she could to see Kitty Riley skulking around._

"_John, Riley's nearby, go, I'll distract her, get home and don't worry." She leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek whispering softly. She spun round and sniffed obviously, letting more tears streak down her face. She managed to summon a loud choked sob, one of a broken hearted woman, which in some aspects, she supposed she was._

"_Molly-" She ignored his surprised shout and darted off towards the interfering journalist. Molly made sure to bump off her deliberating, letting Kitty get a good look at her face, knowing she couldn't resist someone antagonising her. Especially as one of the heavily bags, she'd scrambled to snag collided with Kitty's torso._

Molly shook herself free of her thoughts and jumped again as she took in Sherlock leaping from the couch, the blue sheet slithering dangerously off of him.

He managed to grab it just before it revealed anything interesting.

_Honestly! You're_ _oogling the man, when you are the only link he has to his old life and you're practically drooling!_

She resisted the temptation to smack her own cheeks and rushed to put the frozen stuff away. If she left her head in the freezer for a tad longer than necessary just to cool her cheeks, then so be it.

'He set in store plans to perpetrate the myth of Moriarty, if ever he met his untimely end!' Sherlock entered the kitchen, arms braced on either side of the door frame, this time clad only in boxers. He was looking happier then Molly had seem him since the Fall, even for Sherlock, it was a tad disturbing.

'So that's why the body is gone. But it was already mid way through the autopsy... He's dead. That much is known, documented even.' Molly struggled to keep her eyes fixed on his face, and not to drift lower, a battle that she was bound to lose, sooner rather then later.

She had to wonder if he was doing this on purpose.

'Richard Brook is dead! _That_ has been documented and witnessed! Do keep up Molly!' He grabbed her upper arms once again and kissed her noisily on the cheek before rushing off again.

Molly really had to wonder if this is what John and Mrs. Hudson had to deal with.

She hoped so, otherwise the next while with Sherlock was going to be extraordinarily frustrating and a little disturbing.

'Coffee Molly!'

Annoying, she'd forgotten annoying.


End file.
